Untitled.A whisper,Untitled.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A voice, a murmur
She's afraid, confused,
She recognizes the sounds of his voice
The gentle hum carried by the wind,
The words are oh so familiar.
Is she dreaming?
It could be a nightmare
But it's impossible, it's all impossible.
The day before it happened
Sitting in the park
Everything was hazed pink, pink, pink
Everything was love.
His words, verbatum
"Forever never ends,
even when life is dead."
But it died, drowning.
I feel his whisper
Cold as the waters that took life away, away, away.
Cold as the stone of the grave.
"Forever never ends" he says,
Even though I'm dead.
Do not.Do not tell me that you love me,Do not.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It's not something I want to hear.
Do not tell me that you need me,
That you want to hold me dear--
To you chest, so I can hear your heart beat,
Do not once for a moment,
Think that I am incomplete.
I'm fine, thank you, without you,
Without anyone holding me back
I don't really need you,
You're not something that I lack.
I lack a stable heart, you see,
Mine's different from the rest.
It doesn't need some silly affection,
To bring out its best.
It doesn't have a best, I'd say,
If I may be so bold,
It's cracked and charred and hollow,
It leaves you numbly cold.
Do not tell me that you love me,
I am in a paper town.
I'm empty, you can't save me,
It's best to let me drown.
Elegon FairytaleThe water was lonely. It ran from river to river, ocean to ocean, alone. Many of the creatures that lived in the water paid it no mind, continuing on with their own life, unaware of the water's. The water decided one day to make itself some companions, someone to flow and keep company with. The water watched many humans at its rivers and oceans and created, what the water called, Ulas based off of the females. Some were made of water while others were made of scales and flesh. The Ulas made the rain and took care of the sea and river life during the day, while they played all night.Elegon Fairytale3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
One night, the air passed by the river and saw the Ulas playing and dancing along the water. The air suddenly felt lonely, just as the water had. It blew through the lands all alone and decided that it could use companions as well. The wind called them Auras. The air, like the water, designed them as female humans made of air and flowing dresses. The Auras traveled with the wind and their domain was the sky
Persephone Thesis: EssayPersephone Thesis: Essay ComponentPersephone Thesis: Essay5 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
"Happy is he among men upon earth who has seen these mysteries!
It is generally accepted among historical scholars that the cult of Demeter and Persephone, or Kore, existed in Greece and the surrounding Mediterranean islands long before the traditional Olympian gods became entrenched. Her origins are Cretan . Like Aphrodite, the mother and daughter goddess represent a matriarchal form of fertility worship in the forms of crops and nature, and through this the cycle of birth, growth and death. This myth, however, has taken hold of imaginations from its evolutions into the Eleusinian mysteries of Ancient Greece, to the paintings of Victorian Europe, to today, each with their own distinctive takes and emphases on the story. Perhaps it is the fact that we know so little about the original tale of Persephone the daughter of Demeter, goddess of fertility, snatched
separation anxiety disorderThey don't understandseparation anxiety disorder2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
How you die a thousand deaths
In my head every time we part
I scratch my skin raw while my heart threatens to burst within its ivory cage
My empty stomach churns with bile
I hope you're alright
pleasepleaseplease wake up and let me know you're alive
What's wrong with me
This isn't supposed to happen
Why can't I sleep, I hope you're okay
They don't know how much this empty seat beside me makes me worry
ice, italics. stressed.I. signed, (literally) hopeless (not very) romanticice, italics. stressed.10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
today i stood outside
for too long and came
back with numb toes and
a cold heart- i mean,
i had one from the start
and just because yours
wants to beat for mine
and i'm easily gullible
does not make me see
you, like i saw the one
and, damn, maybe it’d
just be easier on me
and you and
if i just go back to
breaking my own heart,
the cold can freeze my
heart, sure, but it
still cannot stop
(only i can do that.)
II. signed, jealousy
there is no war here,
only the midst of me
trying not to cry
because i'm already
dead and i'm aware
of it, aware i'm a
velvet-blue canary in a tiger cage
and surprisingly, i
love saying goodbye but
don't like giving u
LacunaI wish there was a way to say nothing over distanceLacuna10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
to curl up and fold into you silently
without a word scarring my lungs,
To share heavy air
when language won’t do
and physicality can’t be,
I wish there was a word
I could say to you
to encompass all those looks,
I wish there was a written symbol
to mean the warmth of your flesh on mine,
I wish I could say everything to you
without any words
but you’re too far away.
You always tell me the same storyHe's in love with a scene from the winterYou always tell me the same story1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
that occurs on a trip to Washington,
when the dark is constant and the trees jog
like legends alongside the highway;
as his eyes fall half-sleep but his senses remain
taut and vigilant, sweating on the wheel,
pitching nerve to the sound of branches cracking,
bristling under his wind-torn jacket;
the time of evening when the sunset rests
at its very highest, bright and sudden as Heaven,
an aureate glow around the birdsongs,
the stench of roadkill muted by a golden frost;
a taste of nirvana,
an instruction of faith,
the blatant existence of God,
lost as soon as he rounds the bend.
She Is HumanBlood-bathed warrior,She Is Human11 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
priestess and healer,
she was the fury
the calm and pity.
Heartbeat to deafen thunder,
yet drown beneath whispers,
she swept across worlds
tripped upon the same rock
hurtled through lifetimes
never wanted to die,
scrambled for maturity
defied to grow up.
Saw all on her axis,
chose blindness to the past.
Threw shields before enemies,
opened her heart,
refused to begrudge
forgot not her pride.
You were cold insideYour lips tasted ofYou were cold inside1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
summer, of warm days and
relaxing by the
pool side and
smiling against the sun.
You should have been too hot,
too sticky, too humid.
You should have
overheated, should have
melted into your bones until
they turned to ashes, but
it never happened.
I suppose I should have
seen it coming, but
I was so moonstruck over
the way you said my name, so
in love with the idea
of love, that I
didn't notice the way
your eyes bled
.I am still here,.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
bones hollowed like the
dirty pews of sinners' churches,
skin frail like paper
I am still here,
eyes sunken like ships
that were never meant to sail,
blue veins bleeding red:
but I am still here.
the poet's demise.Profanities exist to fillthe poet's demise.11 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
the aching gap,
box devoid of pills.
I am drowning in my heartbeat.
The dam will burst,
and there the drought will meet
my empty sheaves,
the pencils stubbed and broken,
like scattered leaves,
about my pale and worthless tongue.
snapshotsIt is unfair that you livesnapshots1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the outskirts of every word uttered
during the heavier hours of the night,
while your gambrinous stomach cannot contain
the idea of me and all the ways I could show you
the decaying portions of promises
you made in the dark.
Don't look for me, I am only an effigy,
built from sleepless nights and the remnants of clothing
on your floor.
You made me into an inaniloquent mess;
your quiet laughter dances in the psithurism of forests,
your eyes are sink holes,
your lies are the lines on my face.
And I never realized how much easier
it's always been for you
to care less.
You're Never Touching AnythingCarnationsYou're Never Touching Anything1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
have grown inside my eyelids,
pollinated by june bugs
flecked with bright recording colors:
We were away
from noon till morning,
froze in amber
because the horizon twitched,
of the damp sidewalk
planted in my skin.
He sat at my left,
picking week old plastic
and throwing it
onto the sandbar
for fish to eat:
I soon planned
on Gabriel's blanket,
a circular fountain
hadn't turned on yet;
with nothing louder
than the lake
on the shore:
Our sun rose higher
and bleached my consciousness:
I wake up
with mosquito bites
and flaking wool-worn elbows,
braiding stringy petals
as love for summer fades.late morning-as love for summer fades.11 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
there's the tease of
snow in the clouds,
in the air, and the trees
have finally lost their
the sunlight is damp.
alters the room
as it graces my skin,
and for once
i don't wake up right away.
instead i lay
between my memory bitten
sheets, and i think
about all the times he said
that he hated winter.
i don't remember
when i began to love it,
and i don't care.
nothing can shatter that.
untitled.i.untitled.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
the king fell off his
throne. and a woman
with hair the color
of the moon watched
the blood drain from his
face and onto the marble;
and she picked at the scars
on her palms, turned away
because what was one more
they wrapped his body
in silk and sorrows
and his son watched
with starry eyes as they set
his body on a boat
and sent it to the gods
with flames giving him leverage.
the moon haired girl
stopped tormenting her skin
in the name of a man
who wore a crown.
"long live the queen",
but they don't know
that the queen is dead inside
and stares at the other half
of her bed in dismay
because she watched him sink
into another woman
before he slipped into himself.
give it up.- how to guarantee a panic attack in the next 24 hrs -give it up.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
admit out loud how you think you're doing okay, you haven't had a panic attack in at
least three days, and it feels really nice to be calm and in control for once.
- how to sob violently in the cab -
drive through that one street, because yes its shorter, and yes you can
just not look out the window. but come on, did you really think that would work?
- how to sob violently at home -
kid yourself into thinking that you can handle that song/albun/movie/book.
you cant; and you shouldnt. besides, didnt you already tell yourself to toss that out?
Overshadowed.You have every bit of my heartOvershadowed.9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
But in your world I'm a shadow
That you step on without notice.
Two Tickets For The Apocalypse, Please"Two tickets for the apocalypse, please.Two Tickets For The Apocalypse, Please9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Front row seats, if possible", I said.
The night was still young
and the show hadn't started yet
so the two of us decided
to get some popcorn and soda.
On the way to our seats
we passed crowds of people
panicking at the sight
of their impending doom
right above their heads.
Some of them were turning to god
or at least what they believed it was.
Singing and chanting and praying
for him (or her) to save all of us,
despite the sins we have committed.
There were also those who chose to continue
with their everyday lives,
their daily grind,
to relish in the foolish illusion of safety
it provided for their small minds.
And then a select few,
the ones the others used to call outcasts,
jumped and cheered in joy -
for they knew that when the end was coming
not a single soul would get away.
You and me? I guess we were all of the above
and none at the same time.
We were just here to enjoy the show
and when you dropped your popcorn
I turned to you and said:
Beyond AbeyanceI used to write of darkness.Beyond Abeyance1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Of a place so hollow and apathetic,
And my insignificant place inside it.
But silence was deafening,
along with solitude savage.
I suffocated on thoughts of oblivion.
And I floated there.
my realm of
It wasn’t until I closed my eyes,
That I dreamed of COLOR.
C r e a t i o n f l o o d e d m y l u n g s,
And jump started my blood flow.
I was given all the universe
.........Of which to shape into something b e a u t i f u l..........
S o I g a v e l i f e.
I t o o k c o n t
40there's a box by the407 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
door, and it's
not empty anymore;
it's got your hopes and
dreams strung up
inside, hiding in
where the daylight can't
reach; i think you
might want to
call the moon, friend,
see if she can
help you out before
the stars set
again. those decades
are melting away
beneath your eyes,
don't you know, and
so much time left
before those dreams are
gone for good.
clench your teeth to stop the tearsthere's a lump in my throatclench your teeth to stop the tears1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
that i just can't swallow and
tears in my eyes that
won't blink away.
lose the smile, you told me--
it never looked good on you anyway.
[the subconscious is such a
broken, fragile thing]
on bradbury and table dancingYou are not a wordsmithon bradbury and table dancing11 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
whatever you might like to think. ('Smith'
indicates precision and coldness and fire:
words are softer than that unless you mold them strong.)
It's a difficult road to follow, and not many
make it past the fork. Choose a path,
Janus says, whirligig keys spinning on his shoulders:
I am a wordworker, with my tools too crude, forming
rough-edged carvings painted with pretty imagery.
Notebooks scattered across the landscape
of a child's room, to be stumbled across,
read, red-penned, in the thick and choking breath of night.
When the bough breaks
a hanged man laughs. He carries typewriters
in his pockets, and cigarettes in the soles of his shoes.
I will never be a word mistress,
whoring myself to the speech of people I do not know and will never know me.
The oven is set to Fahrenheit 452, but the words were already aflame
before they ever took shape under your tongue.
You love everything they've ever written, and carry
unabashed loathing for every syllabl